


Spider Do Gooder

by idioticmusing



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioticmusing/pseuds/idioticmusing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he could face 300 feet tall kaiju, he could face palm-sized spiders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anti-spider armour

**Author's Note:**

> For the beautiful Rob Kazinsky and his adorable dimples.  
> For all the pretty people on Tumblr. 
> 
> And for Hunnam's abs.

Nobody would guess Chuck Hansen, the elite, youngest pilot boasting  eleven kaiju kills and an attitude visible from the other side of the Breach, was deathly afraid of spiders. Deathly. Never mind the fact that Chuck was Australian. One would think that his nationality would at least lend some levelheadedness to him when facing the sight of humanity’s eight-legged friends; afterall, Australia wasn't famous for its welcoming inhabitants. 

Chuck’s life was full of hardship, even for someone who grew up in war and never really knew what a normal life was. But who would need normal, when you were a arachnophobic Jaeger pilot plagued with constant spider encounters.

 

**+++++**

 

The morning of his first kaiju kill, Chuck woke up early. Early enough that it was still dark outside, but his Jaeger training kicked in and he jolted awake when he felt a faint tap on his forehead, and upon turning on the light, there was a spider the size of his palm (objectively accurate, Chuck would _never_ exaggerate) just hanging out on his pillow where his face rested just seconds ago.

Chuck froze for just under half a minute, during which he first stared in disbelief, then denial (because really, a spider in the Shatterdome, really?). It was when the spider raised a leg as if in greeting that Chuck accepted the fact that there was a spider in the Shatterdome, and currently residing in his room. More specifically waving hello to him on top of his pillow.

So Chuck did the most natural thing: Scream. Loud and high-pitched, mixing “Herc!” and “DAD HELP!” and a lot of meaningless but very expressive and emotionally-charged “AAAAAH!” Never mind the fact that Chuck hardly call Herc dad if ever, but a spider sighting was an emergency like no other. His old man didn’t answer his call, even though he should be able to hear Chuck – maybe Herc was busy with Pentecost, going over schedules or order or whatever. It didn’t matter though, for Chuck was by himself, facing the greatest challenge. But all would be fine, really, because Chuck was nothing but an elite pilot with the highest score from the Jaeger Academy; he went through hell (training with Mako – _oh god_ ) and fire (first day at the Shatterdome, cue the Kaidanovsky and their bloody vodka) and back. If he could face 300 feet tall kaiju, he could face palm-sized spiders.

And if people saw him sprinting down the hallway to the drivesuit room with tear running down his cheek, it was because it because of the lack of sleep.

When he got back to his room, helmet and everything, the spider had positioned itself to the centre of his bed, seemingly waiting patiently for his return (so it could kill him quickly, efficiently, and discreetly). Brandishing a can of Raid in each hand, Chuck pounced.

Twenty minutes later, when two members of the K-blue decontamination team arrived at his room to remove the corpse of his enemy, Chuck ignored their stink eye.

He slept on Herc’s sofa that night. The old man didn’t say anything – the Drift spoke, but there was something akin to fondness in his father’s eyes that Chuck wasn’t quite comfortable seeing. 

 


	2. Ranger Hansen the third solo pilot

When they were being briefed about the incoming attack on Ho Chi Minh City, Chuck felt uneasy at the kaiju being code-named Atrax. It sounded familiar, vicious; but unlike the roaring madness of his previous kills, Atrax evoked a certain feeling of quiet malice and oppressive dread. Enough that Pentecost ordered the aid of Striker Eureka and Crimson Typhoon to the already deployed Cherno Alpha.

The sea was dark when they arrived, save for the spot light provided by the helicopters circulating around the already deployed Cherno Alpha. Tendo Choi was briefing them about Atrax’s tactical difference from all other kaiju the PPDC had intercepted, how it would wait for hours on end before striking with deadly accuracy, then leaping back to its hiding place under the black water. There wasn’t much visual on the kaiju, as it came and went in mere seconds. The strikes against Cherno were quick and efficient; the only reason why the Kaidanovskys were still standing after the eight-hour struggle was the solid armour of their Jaeger, and the relative lack of strength in Atrax’s attack.  All Chuck could see from the blurred stills were legs, jointed appendages like a giant crab, but there was something morbidly disturbing about it that he couldn’t place. Tendo then went on to the status of the Wei brothers, but Chuck was zoning out the moment he saw florescent blue mesh wrapping around Cherno’s knuckles, eerily similar to a spider’s web. Chuck felt sick.

His old man must have noticed, because he clasped Chuck’s shoulder in an encouraging gesture. Chuck swatted him off.

Half an hour later, when Striker was being carried to Cherno’s side, Chuck’s fear must have bled through the drift, because Herc looked at him, and said, “You’ll be fine, kid.” Chuck scoffed at him.

It was another half hour later until Atrax showed up again, all jointed limbs and deadly grace in every movement. But this time, Cherno managed to get a hold of the kaiju while it was aiming for the Wei brothers, enough to land two pummeling punches to the beast’s side, momentarily stunning it. Chuck barely had a second to marvel at the tremors caused by Cherno’s signature move, before Atrax was slung over to Striker’s waiting hand blades.

Chuck heard a quiet “Oh shit” from his old man, and looked up. Atrax, spread out in the air to regain its balance, was the exact definition of horror, a terrifying kaiju version of a gigantic tarantula pouncing on its prey. Chuck fainted.

When he came to, he was in the infirmary, with his father on the bed to his right, traces of dried blood under his nose and on his lips; Pentecost was at his side, looking grimmer than he usually would. “Hey old man,” he croaked, “You okay?”

Herc’s stale blue eyes fluttered open, tiredness written in his gaze. “Yeah, kiddo.”

“What happened?”

Pentecost took a deep breath like he was about to deliver another grand lecture of his, but then stopped short when Herc flicked a glance at him. Chuck frowned; he hated it when people kept things away from him, unpleasant or not. 

“You blacked out at the sight of Atrax, son.” His father’s eyes were soft, filled with unfamiliar affection. Chuck squirmed uncomfortably, the cover felt too hot.

“I didn’t see arachnophobia listed in your file, Ranger,” Pentecost interjected, then glanced at his old man, like a kid who was caught stealing a cookie from the jar. “Herc was left alone with finishing off the kaiju, solo-piloting Striker until the Wei’s took it down five minutes later. Which is why Ranger Hansen is here, with you.”

“Stacker,” Herc’s tone was disapproving. “We’ve talked about this.”

Chuck felt tired, and inside, guilt was eating him raw. “Old mad, it’s fine. I should have.” He failed, he couldn’t defend Ho Chi Minh city. If it wasn’t for Cherno and the Wei’s, countless lives would be lost, his father too. He turned his back to Herc and Pentecost.

Chuck fell asleep with an apologize on his lips. 


	3. Man could throw a punch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done after putting it off for months. Possible handwaving about the recovery process.

Chuck came back from the dead with some broken ribs, a shattered wrist, superficial burns and possible radiation poisoning.

Not really dead dead, because that would mean Chuck would have to be flat-lined then resuscitated. No, he merely survived the detonation because Pentecost had beaten him unconscious before loading him into one of the escape pods. The man could throw a punch, but then Chuck realized he couldn't have expected anything less from the general. The blast killed the pod’s comm. system and effectively hid Chuck from the Shatterdome’s radar. Herc said he was lucky because Raleigh had good eyes; otherwise they would’ve lost him to the sea. Chuck scoffed, fuck Raleigh, because after two years of crushing on (admittedly the print version of) the younger Becket only for Gipsy to fall and the love of his young life disappeared to build some shit wall in Alaska, the bloody prick couldn’t just barge back into his life like the big damn hero he actually was, saving the world and getting the boy at the same time. He would rather die a soldier’ death with Pentecost than be saved by a wash-out, but Herc’s stale blue eyes had finally cleared, just like the sky he’d waken up to, and just like Raleigh’s, filled with hope and relief and maybe a twinkle of unadulterated affection. At the back of his throat there was a bitter lump that he couldn’t swallow; he shouldn’t have abandoned the Marshall but Herc’d lost a wife and just yesterday, his father again said goodbye to his son and comrade. At the back of his mind, a tiny voice reminded Chuck that he too was glad he was alive, for _Dad_ had already lost so much, he couldn’t afford to lose any more.

Being alive however, was not all that pretty. Radiation poisoning meant fucking migraines that accompanied him everywhere, waves of nausea and just goddamned puking; Chuck felt like he was churning his insides out from his mouth. Herc stayed at his side most of the time, exuding murder whenever any visitor stayed over five minutes. About a week in, Chuck was getting sick of Herc. They’d never spent this much time together; he felt restless over the sudden fatherly affection Herc was showering him with, apparently coming back from the dead had that effect on people. But affection or not, Chuck was determined in sending his father away.

 

Chuck let out a relieved sigh when his father closed the door, not before shooting him another worried glance. Never had he guessed Herc could be the papawolf kind.

Probably not coincidentally, Sasha and Aleksis slipped into his room about half an hour later, bringing him kvass and some Russian meat pie Aleksis made earlier that day. Chuck almost cried, nobody told him the Kaidanovskys survived, but then again he’d never really had the chance to talk to anyone, being rushed off to extensive care and radiation rehab. He was getting sick of all the white blouses, to the point that his father’s casual clothes were a welcomed sight. Shit, the effect of radiation poisoning might be worse than he’d thought; Chuck was developing what could be affection.

He wanted to swallow his tongue and die.

Aleksis’ grunt brought Chuck back to reality. Well, his grunt and a pie shoved to his face. So there he was – he didn’t want to say happily, but he was– munching on the bread thing and drinking kvass while listening to Sasha telling the story of their survival. Chuck’d always liked Sasha and Aleksis, Sasha a little more because she was definitely the most badass woman on the entire planet and actually talked, unlike Aleksis’s single audible answers. He thought Sasha’s accent was exotic, like a shaman from another world, with the graceful sweep of her tail coat and her impossibly red lips and impossibly high hair, but he would never say that (there were a lot of things Chuck would never say). Partly because Chuck’d modus operandi consisted of only anger and swag and douchebaggery, and partly because Chuck just _knew_ Sasha would punch him in the mouth if he did, and truth to be told, he found that _sexy_. And Aleksis, Chuck liked Aleksis because Aleksis was affectionate in his own way, gruff and quiet but loyal and loving, and because Aleksis cooked. Nothing too fancy, just traditional Russian dishes, but always warm and hearty and felt like Aleksis’ gigantic hand patting his back, like a brother Chuck’d never had.

Chuck did wonder though, how Aleksis cooked with his leg in a cast and half his fingers broken; he guessed the Kaidanovskys had actual Ph.Ds in badassery. Wherever they had that program, Chuck wanted to enroll.

The kvass the Kaidanovkys brought over was weak, and he’d rather take actual beer over it any day, but he didn’t mention it, ‘cause Chuck quite liked his teeth, thank you very much.

Mako and Raleigh joined in about an hour later, bringing fish and chips, beers and _my god_ a big ass pavlova. Chuck almost beamed at Raleigh, but at the last second refrained himself to only a face-splitting grin.

Tendo, Newt and Hermann followed up with more beer and junk food, and it turned into a party. Apparently Tendo charmed the nurses into “letting the heroes have their own private celebration” and succeeded.

Mako, always the sensible one, refused to let Chuck have more than two beers, much to his chagrin. But thanks to that, he was sober enough to notice Raleigh’s little glances at him whenever he thought nobody was looking. Their eyes met once, and the bloody prick had the audacity to crack a small smile at him. Chuck scoffed, but his ears felt hot.

 

Raleigh hesitated at the door after everyone had left, looking like he wanted to say something. Chuck replied by turning over and pretending to sleep. The soft click of the door closing followed right after what he could’ve sworn to be a long-suffering sigh, just like Herc’s when he was thinking Chuck was being particularly petulant.

Chuck frowned at the pillow. Only to find a spider less than an inch from his nose, its front legs raised in hostility.

The power that be of this universe really had a cruel sense of humour.

Chuck screamed, flailed and sat up so quickly that he lost balance and shit, falling from the bed with broken ribs wouldn’t be fun. The impact he braced for never came, instead there was solid warmth behind his back, calloused fingers on his arms – oh that felt nice. He didn’t fall.

“Chuck. Chuck! What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You’ve got to be fucking blind.” Chuck hissed. “There’s a spider on my bed, _mate_.”

The look on Raleigh’s face – torn between amusement and pity – made his blood boil. But between punching Raleigh in the mouth risking him abandoning Chuck to battle the eight-legged fiend by himself and controlling his obvious temperamental issue so to appeal to Raleigh for him to stay (and possibly do his battle for him), Chuck decided to go with the latter.

“Well, are you going to fucking do something or you’re just gonna stand there like a bloody drongo you prick?”

That somehow snapped Raleigh into action, and instead of exterminating the devil right then and there, Raleigh cupped his hand and guided the spider onto his palm, and released it somewhere outside his room. _What the actual fuck?_

“You know,” Raleigh started with a grin, sitting down next to Chuck at the foot of his bed. “Spiders are good bugs.”

Chuck bristled, “You can’t be fucking serious-” and he realized with a startle that Raleigh’s eyes were this shade of green-blue, a colour that reminded Chuck of home, of Sydney’s sea on a sunny January morning, and he couldn’t look away.

Raleigh had a small smile on his lips, private and just shy of virginal, and up this close Chuck couldn’t believe how kind the years had been to Raleigh, how impossibly pink his lips were, oh and now his crush on the golden boy was coming back to him in full force. Chuck swallowed, almost gasping for breath, already drowning in Raleigh’s eyes. And Raleigh too, Raleigh seemed as captured as Chuck, since he wasn’t looking away either, and Chuck was tired of over-thinking, so he let instinct took over and crashed his lips on Raleigh’s in a searing kiss.

Raleigh’s lips were soft, and tasted just as good as they looked, a mixture of sea and summer and dandelion. Distantly Chuck’s broken ribs protested, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind, all but drunk on honeyed rum and the delicious swipe of Raleigh’s tongue.

Just as Chuck'd brought his hand up to cup the back of Raleigh’s head, grasping at the golden curls he found there, the door opened and the bloody wanker broke the kiss. Chuck _whined_ and chased after those stupid pink lips, only to be interrupted by an infernally irritated Herc, if the dark look on his father’s face was any indication. Taking in the scenery (two beer bottles lay discarded at the food of the bed, an empty bag of crisps half-heartedly tucked behind the drawer, and Chuck’s hand still on Raleigh’s shoulder), Herc wrenched them apart and hauled Raleigh out of the room with a mighty scowl.

Chuck decided to do the smart thing for once and feigned sleep when Herc came back into the room.

 

 **++++**

 

Three days and a long lecture from Herc later, Chuck was released from the medical bay. Herc was fussing about the wheelchair when Raleigh came to see him, armed with the Kaidanovsky’s, Mako, half the LOCCENT crew and an enormous black eye. The entire trip back to Chuck’s quarter, he noticed Raleigh kept glancing surreptitiously Herc’s way, and it didn’t take much to put two and two together.

 

Two years after that, Mako, when she was officiating their ceremony, joked that Chuck came back from the dead with some broken bones and radiation poisoning, and Raleigh a black eye and traumatized by the word Australia alone.


End file.
